


Magnetic

by Camden



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-29
Updated: 2009-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 03:43:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camden/pseuds/Camden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris can't stop accidentally touching Adam's cock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magnetic

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/ai_kinkmeme/profile)[**ai_kinkmeme**](http://community.livejournal.com/ai_kinkmeme/) with the prompt of, well...this. Lol! Thanks to [](http://aki-hoshi.livejournal.com/profile)[**aki_hoshi**](http://aki-hoshi.livejournal.com/) for the beta.

  
**Magnetic**

  
As far as superpowers go, having dick-seeking magnets in your hands is a pretty crappy one. If Kris had been consulted, he would have gone with the old favorite of flight, or perhaps handy invisibility. Even being the Incredible Hulk would be preferable to this.

The first time he notices it is while he and Adam are walking down the hall at one of the venues on tour, following a stagehand who's showing them the way to the lift under the stage. Adam's a step behind and when Kris swings his hand back as he's walking, it connects with something soft and fabric-covered.

"Jesus, watch where you're swinging those things!" Adam says, sidestepping out of the way. "An inch lower and you would have hit me right in the balls!"

"It wasn't _hard_ ," Kris protests, meaning the blow, but when his brain catches up to what's an inch above Adam's balls, the unintended double-meaning makes him blush.

Adam doesn't seem to notice, thankfully. "So? Sometimes a tap hurts worse."

Since this is very true, Kris just mutters an apology and concentrates on not swinging his arms like a big freak.

The idea that he – even totally by accident and not at all erotically – touched Adam's dick makes him unsettled for the entire rest of the day.

Of course, it ought to be the sort of thing that's just one and done, but, and this is where Kris starts to formulate the magnet theory, it happens again the very next day.

They're on the bus in the back lounge and Adam is sitting on the couch reading a book. Matt and Danny are sitting at the little table playing gin. Kris has been trying to work on some lyrics, but they're just not coming. He tosses his notebook on the table and flings himself back into the cushions, spreading his arms out, huffing an irritated sigh.

Apparently, though, he's underestimated his wingspan, and his left hand ends up in Adam's lap, right on his crotch. Luckily, it's palm _up_ , which is less creepy and gropey, but Kris still snatches his hand back like Adam's crotch is on fire.

Adam looks at him like he's mentally challenged and says, "Really? Are you just on a mission to castrate me?"

Kris tries to stammer out some explanation, but Matt interrupts his sputtering. "Kris is trying to what now?"

"He keeps whacking me in the crotch," Adam says, in a far-too-conversational tone. "I think he's a paid cock-assassin."

Danny and Matt both whoop at this. "It was an accident!" Kris protests, but no one is paying attention.

"I bet the producers got tired of people complaining about your 'sexually charged dance moves' and whatnot," Matt says, quoting from a recent review they'd teased Adam about.

"It's a _family show_ ," Danny chimes in. "The only thing they could do to save it was to hire Kris to cut off your 'raw sexual energy' at the source."

"Funny," Adam says, rolling his eyes. Then he turns to Kris. "Next time, I'm getting you back," he says, punching one fist into the other palm threateningly.

"Nah, don't punch him, man. Flick him. That hurts like a _bitch_ ," Danny says gravely, in the tone of one who's been flicked in the balls.

Matt nods in agreement. "Sarah Groffski. Fifth grade. I called her a skank and... Yeah. I can still feel it when it rains."

Kris rolls his eyes and gets up. "From now on, I'm never touching anything anywhere near anyone's balls ever again." They're all still laughing as he sidles down the narrow corridor where the bunks are and Kris grimaces. He means it, though. Any time Adam's anywhere near him from now on, he's going to cross his arms over his chest and stay that way.

Once is just an accident. Twice is a coincidence. But three times is a pattern, and Kris is _not_ going to establish a pattern of touching Adam's dick.

Except that he does.

Thankfully, it's not the very next day after the previous incident. He makes it through that day without issue, but the day after, they're all in make-up, and Kris is sitting next to Allison. She asks him where he got the bottled water that he's sipping and when he gestures towards the table, his hand connects with something that's starting to become all-too familiar.

And this time, it's not a brief tap or a glancing blow, either. He'd been making a sort of pushing gesture with his hand, so he gets a full-on _handful_ this time. A straight-up _palming_. It's quite possibly the most awkward thing that's ever happened to Kris in his life.

Of course, Adam jumps back and Kris pulls his hand away, but not before he realizes that he could feel it. _It_. And it must be big if it made an impression – no pun intended – on Kris, even through denim and, hopefully, underwear.

"Seriously? Seriously." Adam's voice is incredulous, and Kris wants to try to silently beg Adam not to talk about the whole dick-touching thing _here_ , because then _everyone_ will know, but the last thing he can imagine doing right now is meeting Adam's eyes.

So he sits with his head down, cheeks flaming and mumbles, "I just, I don't even know, okay? Sorry! Sorry."

Adam apparently decides to take pity on him because he merely says, "Next time, buy me dinner first, alright?" with a huffy little laugh.

Then he continues on his way around Kris's chair and presses a kiss to Allison's hair. "What was that?" she asks, and Kris holds his breath.

"Nothing. Kris was just groping me." He says it like a joke, so just Allison snickers and starts asking Adam something about acrylic nails.

Kris tries to forget about it, but for some reason, his brain can't ignore it and it even invades his sleep.

That night, he wakes up in his cramped bunk on the rocking bus with an almost painful hard-on. His head is still swimming with dream images and trying to concentrate on them is like pushing a magnet across a tabletop towards its mate's opposite pole – the harder he presses, the more the memories scoot away from him.

Magnets. His hand. Adam's cock... He sees a flash from his dreams, pressing his hand against Adam's denim-covered crotch, but instead of pulling away like he should, he squeezes, feeling the outline against his hand as Adam starts getting hard.

He sits up, almost frantic, and curls in on himself, resting his head on his knees, his erection throbbing and insistent against his stomach. That's what he'd been dreaming of. That's what made him wake up, hard and hot, probably moments away from coming all over himself in his sleep like a sixth-grader.

He tries to tell himself that there was probably another part to the dream. A part with Katy – or maybe Shakira – and that's what has him so... excited. But even though he can't remember everything he dreamed of, he knows there was no other part.

He can tell because, even now when he's wide awake, when he thinks about touching Adam like that, his cock twitches and heat curls in his belly, flip-flopping it like he's on a carnival ride.

It's so scary to even contemplate that he rolls on his side, curling around his spare pillow, and deliberately blue-balls himself refusing to jerk off. Which makes him feel worse, because he knows the only reason is because he's afraid of what he'll end up thinking of while he's doing it.

In the morning, he feels like complete crap. The combination of fitful sleep and aching balls makes him listless and grumpy. Normally he hates travel days, but today it's a blessing because it's the best excuse to just hibernate in his bunk and ignore the world.

Of course, he still has to do normal things like eat and pee. He tries to do them quickly, with a minimum of interaction, but naturally it doesn't go as planned. He's slinking around the kitchenette, making a sandwich, and everything's pretty quiet. Michael and Matt are having lunch at the cramped table, and Danny and Anoop are sitting on the adjacent sofa, both on their computers.

Kris knows, because he peeked, that Adam is in the rear lounge with Scott and Todd, so he goes about his business with confidence that Adam's crotch is as far away as it can be on a regulation tour bus.

But naturally, because of the magnet thing, when Kris reaches behind his back to grab a knife out of the silverware drawer without looking, instead of a cold metal handle, he touches flannel pajama pants covering... _Damn._

"Seriously? We're doing this again? I'm starting to really get worried, here."

"Holy shit! Is Allen hitting you in the junk _again_?" Matt asks, dropping his ham and cheese sandwich in a dramatic fashion.

Danny looks up from his computer. "That is not cool, man. Was it a flick?"

"It was an accident!" Kris cries, jamming his hands under his armpits to prevent the magnets from activating.

"No, he's progressed to more loving caresses," Adam says, propping a hip against the counter and smirking.

"I always wondered when the sexual tension would become too much and Kris would snap," Anoop says mildly, closing his computer and swiveling in his seat.

"I haven't snapped!" Kris protests. "And sexual tension? I don't even... I'm not..." He trails off, blushing hard, and he desperately wants to make a break for his bunk, but he'd have to walk past Adam to get there. And the way things are going, he'd end up 'accidentally' shoving his hand down Adam's pants.

"Leave him alone," Adam says, in the gentle voice he uses when he's talking Allison out of a crisis. "It was an accident. I shouldn't have joked about it."

"Wait, what's going on?" Michael asks, putting down his fork. "Who's got sexual tension?"

Adam rolls his eyes. "No one. Just drop it, okay?" He steps around Kris – carefully – and opens the fridge. While his back is turned, Kris grabs his sandwich and practically runs for his bunk. His cheeks are so hot that he feels sunburned and his stomach is rolling painfully. He shouldn't be so embarrassed.

That's the problem: He _shouldn't_ be so embarrassed, because it's not on purpose, after all. The fact that he _is_ that embarrassed makes him wonder if he's somehow _making_ it happen. Like his subconscious wants to touch Adam's cock so badly that it's manifesting itself physically. Or something.

He realized he should probably stop watching those weird shows about the hidden potential of the brain that Anoop and Matt like to watch on the Discovery Channel.

"Knock-knock."

The voice startles Kris. Adam's still using his careful voice and Kris sighs, yanking the curtains open. "Yeah?" He takes a big bite of his sandwich, avoiding Adam's eyes.

"Listen, I shouldn't have said that out there. About the...groping. I was just joking around, but I know it's not cool in front of the guys. You know how I don't have a filter, and... Yeah, well... I'm sorry, okay?"

Kris nods and takes another bite. "S'okay," he mumbles through his mouthful.

"No, it's not. I should be more respectful of... I don't know... Our positions, I guess?"

Kris knows what he means and he doesn't want to talk about it. At all. Images from his dream flit through his mind and he swallows a lump of sandwich that isn't all the way chewed and starts coughing.

Adam hands him a bottle of water. Kris drains half of what's left before belatedly realizing that it's Adam's water that he's been drinking and suddenly bottle-sharing seems too intimate. Kris thrusts the bottle back at Adam, blushing again.

"Just... Let's just forget it, okay?"

Adam gives him a quick smile. "Sure thing. Well... I'm gonna go check my email."

Kris nods and goes back to his sandwich. It's weird sitting here on his bed, eating. It makes him think of college, where the bed is the main piece of furniture and you do everything on it. Being on tour is a lot like being in college, actually, once he thinks about it.

Forced proximity with a bunch of guys that he _likes_ , but wouldn't necessarily choose to live with? Check. Separated from his family, but still being told what to do almost twenty-four seven? Check. Weird, confusing feelings that crop up just when he thinks he's totally sure of who he is and what he wants? Check.

Maybe this whole touching-Adam's-dick thing is some kind of experimentation thing. Although, he never did any experimenting in college, so why should tour be any different?

He sighs and puts his empty plate aside, curling up into a ball. He's hard again, and he wonders when it happened. He hadn't noticed. And – much like college – he doesn't even have the privacy needed to do anything about it, so he just lies there, trying to think of anything in the world other than Adam Lambert's crotch.

It doesn't work at all, and two days later, it happens again. They're standing in a cramped alcove under the stage, waiting to climb on the lift for their part of "Don't Stop Believing," and Kris is frantically buttoning his shirt. He has to do the mother of all quick-changes and Adam used to help him with his buttons sometimes, which was nice. But Adam's been giving him a lot of _space_ since their little talk at Kris's bunk. It shouldn't be irritating, but it kind of is.

How is Kris supposed to forget about it when Adam's body language and actions are constantly reminding him?

Then he brings his hand up to tug at the hem of his shirt and his knuckles brush against... He looks up. Adam's stepped close to him when he wasn't looking, and there's a look on Adam's face that's partly amused and partly something else. "I'm ignoring that," he tells Kris. "Completely ignoring it."

Kris doesn't point out that mentioning it doesn't count as ignoring it. He chafes his opposite palm against his knuckles to remove the ghostly feeling of denim covering a zipper that covers...

"What are you doing?" Kris asks, realizing that not only has Adam not moved away, he's _touching_ Kris.

"You're buttoned wrong. If you go out there with your shirt like that, the Kradam fans will have a field day."

Kris stands completely immobile, still clutching his fist in his other hand, as Adam deftly unbuttons him and fixes his shirt. Kris is wearing an undershirt, but he can still feel the heat from Adam's fingers against his chest. He wonders why he never noticed before.

"There. Much better," Adam says, his voice low and soft.

"Thanks," Kris whispers back, wondering why they're being so quiet. Then he chances a look up at Adam, and everything seems to grind to a halt. The air is thick around them and Adam licks his lips. Kris doesn't know why he's doing it, but he tilts his head up, letting his mouth drop open. Adam starts to bend down, and Kris's eyes flutter shut.

"Okay, on the lift, boys," someone says over to the side. They jump apart, scurrying to take their marks. The stagehand is a grizzled old guy who doesn't seem to have noticed that they were clearly about to... Well, something was about to happen. Or maybe he just doesn't care.

He performs on autopilot, tugging his shirt down because he's half-hard from... from whatever that was under the stage, and he really hopes no one will notice.

He does his little dance with Adam that's become a tradition, but he hopes no one in the front row has a high-powered camera, because if his smile looks as fake and strained as Adam's does, there's going to be a rash of blogs about 'trouble in paradise.'

Kris manages to finish the show by rote and is trudging to the meet and greet when someone grabs his hand and pulls him down a hallway. He recognizes Adam by the smell of his cologne, which is weird because if anyone would have asked him five minutes ago, he would have sworn he had no idea what Adam smelled like.

"What are you doing?" Kris asks, already breathing heavily in anticipation of...something.

"Finishing what you started. What was that back there?"

Kris wants to pretend he doesn't know what Adam's talking about, but he'd sort of like to know the answer himself, so he says, "I honestly don't know."

Adam gets a look on his face that's equal parts fond and exasperated and he grabs Kris's hand and pulls it towards him until Kris's hand is hovering inches above Adam's crotch. Adam lets go of his hand then, and Kris gulps. He knows he should pull away and run, but something's happening to him and before he can analyze the situation, he puts his hand on Adam's dick and squeezes.

It's just like his dream. Adam's hard and Kris can feel it pressing into his palm, and he can only curl his fingers around it halfway because Adam's jeans are too tight. It must be enough, though, because Adam groans and leans down, smashing his mouth against Kris's.

It's funny that he'd given a lot of thought to what it would be like to touch Adam's cock, but he hadn't even considered what it would be like to kiss Adam. It turns out that it's completely different than any other kissing. For one thing, Adam is bigger – and taller – than anyone Kris has ever kissed, and Kris feels _possessed_. _Owned_. _Taken over_. And that feeling intensifies when Adam turns him and presses him up against the wall.

Kris's back connects with the wall and he huffs out a startled breath which Adam steals, sealing their mouths back together almost instantly. Adam takes both of Kris's wrists and twists them up over his head, pinning them there with one large hand. Kris could get out, of course, if he wanted, but it's too good like this – like he belongs to Adam.

Adam's free hand rips at Kris's belt and undoes his fly, pushing his pants and underwear down enough to wrap Kris's cock in an expert grip. His hand is so big and hot and _good_ and all Kris can do it gasp against Adam's mouth, his fingernails biting into his flesh where his hands are pinned.

Kris can feel his belt buckle hitting against his thigh in time with Adam's strokes and the sharp taps keep him focused, remind him that he's actually there and this is really happening.

"Can I...? Can I...?" Adam whispers against his lips, and Kris doesn't know what Adam's asking until he starts sliding down Kris's body, falling to his knees in the dingy hallway. Kris's now free hands go straight into Adam's hair, seemingly of their own volition, and he winds the strands around his fingers, trying not to tug.

Adam rubs his face against Kris's lower belly, almost reverently, breathing deeply, his eyes closed tightly. The look of rapture on his face is staggering and Kris can't help but wonder how long Adam's wanted to do this. He wonders how badly he's been torturing Adam with his accidental touches, and he thinks that if it's been hell on him, it's probably been worse for Adam. Because Adam must have _known_. He's gay after all, so he must have known how good it would feel for them to do this.

Kris wishes he would have known, too, because he wouldn't have fought this. He would have initiated it himself.

Then Adam's mouth closes around his dick and Kris forgets to think. It's not like he's never gotten a blowjob before, but he's never gotten a blowjob like _this_. Adam's tongue is everywhere, darting and swirling, and the suction is so intense that Kris has to lock his knees to keep them from buckling.

He slides a hand down out of Adam's hair and across his jaw, feeling his cheek as it hollows and releases. He strokes his thumb along one dark eyebrow and Adam opens his eyes and looks up at Kris. The look in them is so intense – caught somewhere between mischievous triumph and unabashed lust, with a hint of fear and wonder – that Kris gasps and comes.

Adam's eyes slam closed as he swallows, and Kris feels the muscles in Adam's throat working under his hand. Kris leans his head back against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Then Adam's on his feet again, sucking on Kris's neck, gently, almost soothingly. Kris is pretty sure he's leaving a hickey, but he can't bring himself to put a stop to it. Everything feels too good.

He realizes he ought to do something for Adam, then, and he whispers, "Should I...? Can I..." as he reaches for Adam's belt. Adam goes to move Kris's hand away, but not before Kris can feel that Adam's not hard anymore and that the front of his pants is damp. "Oh..."

"I've been worked up for a week," Adam explains sheepishly against Kris's neck. "You and your 'accidents.' God, it's been _killing_ me."

"Sorry. I won't do it again," Kris says, moving his mouth across Adam's jaw, kissing the hollow of his cheek, the side of his nose, the point of his chin, just because he can. For right now, at least.

"You better. You better do it again or I'll fucking kill you," Adam says, and his voice sounds just broken enough that Kris thinks he means it.

Kris has no clue what's going to happen in the future. He's married, Adam's seeing someone, they're both on tour, they're both supposed to be making albums, and Kris isn't – as far as he knew before tonight anyway – technically gay. And they're probably currently in a huge amount of trouble for skipping the meet and greet with no explanation.

Kris has no clue what's going to happen, but for now, his hands drift to the front of Adam's pants, stroking the wet material and the flesh underneath that's starting to be interested again. He can't help it. It's the magnet thing. He's just got to touch.

"Sorry," he whispers, not knowing what he's apologizing for.

"Don't be. Just don't stop," Adam replies, pushing Kris's shirt aside to mouth his collarbone.

Kris smiles. Maybe his superpower is going to come in handy after all. "I won't," he says, unfastening Adam's belt. "I couldn't if I wanted to."


End file.
